


Shatter Me

by xxDustNight88



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8422375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxDustNight88/pseuds/xxDustNight88
Summary: When her Time Turner shatters, Hermione finds herself thrown into an alternate universe, one where Tom Riddle is nothing like the villain she's grown up fearing. With his help, can she fix the Time Turner in order to return to present day and save the universe from a fate most wicked?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know it’s been ages since I posted anything new, but the thing is, I’ve participated in a few challenges that needed to stay anonymous. I can finally post this story for you though! It’s my first time venturing into the world of Tomione so I hope you enjoy it! It was my entry for Hermione Haven’s (on facebook) #RollAPrompt Writing Challenge. I’m so honored that it managed to take First Place for Overall Favorite and Best Relationship Development, as well as Runner Up for Most Creative. I was up against some amazing writers and their stories were fantastic also! I haven’t fully decided yet, but I might expand it when I have the time. Anyway, enjoy and please review when you’re finished! Much love, xxDustNight 
> 
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
> 
> Prompt: Roll A Prompt Writing Challenge: Hermione/Tom Riddle, Travel to another world/universe  
> Rated: M  
> Pairing: Hermione/Tom Riddle  
> Song recommendation: “Shatter Me” by Lindsey Stirling ft. Lzzy Hale

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“ _Some fall in love. I shatter._ ”

— _Stephin Merritt_

. . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

_Shatter Me_

 

Running. Ducking. Tripping. Stumbling.

Frantic breathing, the sound too loud. Far too loud. They’ll hear.

Whimpering, she covered her mouth with her free hand to stifle the sounds, so they wouldn’t hear her. Her other hand gripped her wand tightly, constant vigilance on her mind. They were close, too close. She could hear them mere meters behind her, chasing— _following_ —through the forest. Their heavy feet crunching over rocks and fallen leaves. She needed to hurry, to get away before it was too late. She would be outnumbered. Death imminent. There would be no sparing her. With the final battle upon them, and their numbers dwindling, there was no hope for her if she was caught.

She’d be gone in a bolt of green light.

Or worse.

Separated from her friends, she knew not where she was headed or if they were even still alive. She kept running, time of the essence. They were closing in now, closer and closer still. She knew why they were chasing her, and it was more than just because she was the Muggleborn best friend to the Chosen One. No, it was far more than that. Attached to a chain around her neck dangled the last surviving Time Turner, and they wanted it for their own. _He_ wanted it for his own devices. For if Harry was successful this night, they were going to need a way to go back and change the past to secure their future. A future most dark. Most wicked.

A future where Voldemort lived, and they all died.

Her chest ached, her feet hurt, but she kept on running. If she could just get past the ward line, she could apparate to safety, or hide. Or something. Suddenly, the trees thinned as she emerged into a clearing. She skidded to a halt, turning around to face the approaching Death Eaters. Trying to get her ragged breathing under control, her chest heaved, making her head spin. Two hooded figures joined her in the clearing then, and she knew it was either fight, or die. Or both.

Pointing her wand steadily at the smaller of the two, she ran through her mental encyclopedia of spells and curses, wanting to choose just the right one. She had no idea who these wizards were, their faces hidden by their masks, but she knew she would have mere seconds to decide what to do. She was prepared for them. She was ready. She was _entirely_ unprepared to hear someone emerge from the tree line behind her, stepping over crumpled leaves and broken tree branches.

Fighting against her better judgement, she whipped around, freehand gripping the Time Turner at her neck possessively. Trying to keep it safe. Terror tore through her body at the sight before her, blood running cold. She stumbled backward a step, eyes wide as she took in the form of Voldemort, his blood red eyes and snakelike features trained on her face. Swallowing, she gripped her wand tightly, although she knew she stood no chance against this man. This monster.

Making a split second decision, she decided to try and run for cover again, knowing there was no hope this time. She darted to the left, a flash of green erupting above her as it hit against a branch. She screamed then, her foot tangling in a tree root. She fell hard onto the forest floor, her body slamming into the ground with such force that she saw stars. Rolling onto her side, she ignored the smell of blood and soil, only to find Voldemort staring down at her. Knowing what she had to do now, she made to grab the Time Turner, but it wasn’t there! Where had it gone?!

Frantically, she looked around, spotting it on the ground beside her. “No!” She gasped at the realization of what happened. Reaching for the trinket, she tried to hold back her tears, her fears. Scooping it into her hand, she felt all hope leave her body because in that moment, that tiny minuscule second, she knew she was about to die. Brown eyes met red, her hand holding up the Time Turner for Voldemort to see.

“It’s shattered.”

She saw the anger flash in his eyes, his wand raised above his head.  She began to close her eyes, ready to meet the end. Her end. Except. Except, the end didn’t come for her. There was no flash of green light. No feeling of lifelessness. Instead, the wind picked up, a swirling tornado whipping her hair about her face. She gripped the Time Turner and her wand harder, not wanting to let go for some reason. And then, then the ticking started. It was loud. So loud. It filled her ears. It made her head ache. With one last frantic look into Voldemort’s wicked face, Hermione found herself ripped from this universe, a blood curdling scream tearing from her throat as she was thrown backward and across time.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

For a second time that night, Hermione found herself slammed into the ground. This time left her far more disoriented than before, her head swimming. Her breathing was labored and everything ached. She remained where she was, attempting to get her bearings, for she knew not where or when she even traveled to. She could be anywhere now, a broken Time Turner was not something one tampered with. She still gripped hers tightly in her hand, the shattered glass piercing her fragile skin.

As she began to calm, there was a rustling nearby in the forest. Panic stricken, Hermione scurried to her feet, ignoring the pain in her head, and stumbled behind a tree. She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to remain calm, yet knowing someone was out there. Her worst fears were realized when a voice called out into the darkness.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

Trying not to sob aloud, Hermione attempted to make herself one with the tree, yet knew her efforts were useless. The footsteps were moving closer, along with the light from a wand. She would be found any second, and then… Well, she didn’t even want to think about what would happen then. Trying to move quietly, she unwrapped her arms from around herself so she could tuck the shattered Time Turner into her coat pocket, leaving her holding her wand. Whoever was about to find her didn’t need to know about the broken trinket.

Just as she’d finished hiding the pieces away, the wand light found her. Biting her lip, she lifted her frightened brown eyes and met a pair of striking green ones. He was peering down at her, a bewildered and cautious look upon his pale face. Hermione’s gaze raked over his features, something familiar about this man triggering her anxiety. Using the sleeve of her coat, she wiped frantically at her tearstained face, trying desperately not to appear as disheveled and lost as she felt.

The wizard leveled his wand with her chest as he asked, “Who are you and what are you doing out here in the middle of the forest?” His eyes narrowed slightly at her as he spoke, his voice a deep rumbling sound.

“I’m Jean. Jean Graham,” she lied quickly, using her middle name as a cover. “I—I was trying to apparate and somehow landed here.” It wasn’t the best of cover stories, but until she knew who this man was, and where exactly she was, it would have to do. She stepped away from the tree but found herself tumbling forward, her ankle giving out on her. A shriek left her mouth as she fell forward, eyes going closed as she expected to hit the cold, hard ground again...but that never happened.

Instead, two strong arms wrapped around her middle, firmly securing her from hitting the ground again. Instinctively, her hands wrapped around his forearms to brace herself, and she was surprised to find him quite warm. “Oh!” She breathed, shock evident in her voice. “Thank you. I’m not sure I could handle yet another hard blow to my body tonight.”

As he helped right her, the man further inquired about her presence. “You’ve been hurt more this evening? Is that why you are in such a state?” He indicated her torn coat and jeans which happened to be splattered in both mud and blood.

She nodded, brushing curls from her face so she could see him easier. “I was being chased.”

“You’re lucky you were not splinched,” the man said glancing around as if trying to figure out if they were well and truly alone. “We should get out of the forest. You could have been followed, and I do not wish to get caught in the crosshairs of whatever fight you were a part of.”

Frowning, Hermione watched as the man turned and began walking in the direction he'd come. Feeling slightly annoyed with his offhandish insult, she trudged after him, her aching legs making the trek difficult. “Excuse me?” The man glanced over his shoulder for a brief second, so she took that as indication to carry on. “Who are you?”

He sniffed, the sound barely audible over the crunching of the forest floor. “Name’s Tom Riddle.”

A squeak of surprise left Hermione’s lips as she tripped to a stop. Riddle stopped as well, one dark eyebrow quirking as he observed her. “Did you say Tom Riddle?”

“Yes...have you heard of me?”

“Um…” She faltered, entirely at a loss what to say next. “Yes…”

He was on her in an instant, and if she didn’t know what he would become, she’d never believe how quickly he could move. How vicious a monster he could be. He backed her against a tree, wand pointed at her chest, right over her heart. Breathing frantically, she stared up into his face, eyes wild with fright.

“Tell me right this instant who you truly are, and your reasons for being here.” He smirked then, and Hermione shivered. “If you lie to me again, you will regret it, of that I can assure you.”

Nodding, Hermione tried to get her racing heart under control, but how does one relax when the future Dark Lord is holding his wand at your heart and threatening you? Nevertheless, she managed to calm herself enough to speak. “My real name is Hermione Granger, and I’m from the future...at least, I think so.”

Riddle’s eyes bore into her own as he tried to determine whether or not she was telling the truth this time. Finally, he stepped away, seemingly satisfied with her response. However, he did not lower his wand. “The future. How in the name of Salazar did you manage to get here then?”

Sighing, she reached into her pocket and extracted the Time Turner. “With this,” she explained, extending her hand for him to see the mangled hourglass. The fragile pieces were still coated in her blood, but it was clear what she held. Riddle glanced at the Time Turner and then back at her face before lowering his wand, slightly.

“What happened?”

“Where I’m from, there’s a war raging right this very moment. I was being chased, mostly because I held this,” She closed her hand around the Time Turner as she said this, trying to ignore the pain in her palm. “I panicked and fell, breaking this. When I picked it up, it threw me backwards in time.”

Running a hand through his dark curls, Riddle watched as she returned the Time Turner to her pocket, curiosity and a bit of trepidation ghosting his features. “This war that you speak of, is it the reason you know who I am?”

“Yes,” Hermione breathed out, terrified of what he might do to her. If she died here and now, there would be no fixing the Time Turner to travel forward in time and save her friends and family. It would be over, and everything they’d fought so valiantly for would be ruined. Saying nothing else, she waited for his next move, and was surprised when he lowered his wand completely, instead reaching for her hand.

“Come, we must hurry. There is much to do.”

She didn’t question him. She merely allowed him to wrap his warm hand around her own and tug her through the forest. They walked briskly through the underbrush, Riddle using his wand to help clear a path while Hermione used hers to light the way. Before long they’d reached the edge of the tree line, allowing them to step foot into Hogsmeade. Without saying a word, he whisked her through the quiet streets, nothing like the ones she remembered from her time. He never let go of her hand until he’d secured the two of them inside his meager room above The Three Broomsticks.

When at last he dropped her hand to lock the door, he turned to face her, his pale cheekbones flushed pink from the chill of the night, and his green eyes glittering with an emotion she could not place, he asked, “What do you know about repairing Time Turners?”

“Nothing…,” she answered with a frown, her voice laced with disappointment.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, a smirk playing on his Cupid’s bow lips. “It’s a good thing I stumbled into you because I’ve just been researching this very topic.”

Hermione didn’t know whether to be incredibly thrilled or terrified by that statement, but she swallowed heavily and pushed aside her fears for the time being. “Alright, Tom...let’s get started.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The two worked surprisingly well together, both researching, practicing restorative spells, and actively avoiding discussing exactly why Hermione knew who he was despite having just met him. Tom never questioned why she seemed fearful of his name, almost wary of his presence. The room Tom rented was small, barely large enough for one person, let alone two young adults. Somehow they made it work, Tom sleeping on a chair he’d transfigured into a cot and allowing Hermione the bed.

They’d eat in the pub below or venture over to the Hog’s Head every now and then, but Hermione found herself wanting to avoid contact with as many people she would run into later in their lives as possible. With Aberforth Dumbledore working there, she tried to stay away. Tom never questioned her about it, fully understanding the issues that came with time travel.

Tom avoided asking her where she came from, and she refrained from asking him what he was up to on nights he would leave her in the room alone, sneaking off to who knows where for hours on end. Some nights he would return sullen, but seemingly alright, while others…

Other nights he would return pale and trembling, a vacant look in his dark green eyes. It chilled Hermione to the bone and made her scared to sleep. She didn’t sleep those nights. Instead, she’d lie there in bed, holding her breathing steady so he thought she was asleep. He didn’t sleep either. She knew he didn’t. How could he? It was on those nights that she felt pity for the wizard known as Tom Riddle. She suspected he was out doing nefarious deeds with his small recruitment of Death Eaters. He was still so young, and yet...yet she knew at this point in his life he’d already created two or three Horcruxes.

He was no innocent.

He was a murderer.

She had to be careful.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It’d been two full weeks since she arrived in this alternate universe when it first happened. The two of them sitting across from each other at the corner booth in the Three Broomsticks. Hermione reached for a spoon to stir her tea at the same time Tom did. Naturally, their hands bumped into each other. Immediately, Tom withdrew his hand mumbling a quick apology that she barely heard over the noise of the busy pub. She didn’t miss, however, the tint of pink that colored his regal cheeks or the way his eyes quickly darted away from her face. She returned the apology, quickly stirring her tea before passing the spoon to him.

She was almost certain that when his fingers grazed hers as he took the utensil from her hand he did it on purpose.

Almost.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After that first accidental touch, Hermione found Tom’s presence moving closer to her. When they’d research in the small room, he would now sit on the bed with her rather than in the chair. He began asking more and more personal questions, even if they still avoided the future. Hermione was worried to answer him. Worried that he might be getting too close. Worried that he was becoming far too interested in her.

That worry intensified when she found herself leaning closer when he read from the thick tomes about time travel, distracted by the cadence of his voice. It grew more intense when she found herself wanting to brush dark curls from his forehead. Her worry nearly made her chest explode with anxiety when he left the room late at night, to do dreadful, horrible deeds.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A month after she arrived, they were able to reconstruct the Time Turner to its former beauty. Their next task would be to locate magical sand and figure out the incantation that would allow it to function. Tom proceeded to take on this job as Hermione feared venturing too far from where she’d arrived.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright alone, Hermione,” Tom asked her as he shrugged into his traveling cloak. “You can come along, if you’d like. I’m only going to Diagon Alley, and perhaps...Knockturn as well.”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head, curls bouncing slightly. “It’s best if I stay behind. It wouldn’t be wise...what if I change the future somehow?”

“You’re right.” He frowned, hand on the doorknob. “What if this is a different universe? What if we do all of this and you end up in the wrong time and place?”

“We’ve talked about this, Tom. There’s not many differences from what I know to be historically accurate. I think it's okay.” It was nearly the truth. She wasn’t one hundred percent certain she wouldn’t end up lost in time. The swirling time vortex she’d arrived in had seemed drastically different than anything she’d ever read about or experienced before, but she didn’t dare tell Tom that.

“If you’re certain.”

“I am.”

He lingered a moment longer, eyes dropping to her lips before he came to his senses. Spending so much time together in close quarters was clearly starting to get to them. With one final nod, Tom opened the door and disappeared into the night. Hermione paced the small room for hours, anticipating his return.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He didn’t return for five days.

He did manage to get the sand.

Hermione had never felt such relief as when he walked through that door looking tired and worn, but happy nonetheless. He held up the small vial with triumph, and Hermione didn’t even stop to think before hurtling herself into his arms. She wrapped herself around him, his body cold, smelling of pine and the sea.

He didn’t react at first, but after a moment, he too wrapped his arms around her.

That’s when she knew she was in trouble.

But she didn’t let go.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Later that week, he left her alone to go to one of his meetings. He seemed reluctant to leave, so she asked him to stay. The words left her mouth before she could stop them. His face crumpled with regret for the briefest of moments before his features slid back into his normal facade.

“You know I can’t.”

“I know, but I thought it would be nice to ask.” She picked at her fingernails, a nervous habit she hated, but it kept her from reaching out to him. Kept her from touching him. Kept her from doing something she would regret. Something _he_ would regret.

“It is, and I thank you.” He sighed, pulling open the door. “I’ll see you in the morning. Try not to wait up for me. I—I’m not sure I’ll be back until early.”

That did not fare well, but Hermione tried to ignore the tremor of fear that traveled up and down her spine. She merely nodded, eyes meeting his once more before he disappeared out the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her fears. Her feelings.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She ended up staying awake anyway, pacing the room, sipping nearly cold tea, and trying different incantations on the newly rebuilt Time Turner. Nothing worked to distract her from her thoughts. She knew she shouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —feel the way she was feeling for Tom. It was too messy. Too complicated.

Too dangerous.

If he learned of her lineage, she’d probably be dead by now. How she evaded that line of questioning so far, she did not know. She did know that right now Tom Riddle, no...Lord Voldemort, was out there with his Death Eaters plotting and planning.

Angry with herself, Hermione kicked the chair Tom used as a cot, watching with satisfaction as it tumbled over. There was a loud bang, the door flying open caused her to scream. In the doorway, stood Tom, hands covered in blood. _So much blood_. It dripped down his forearms onto the hardwood floor. Red rivers flowing down his white arms...leaving trails on the floor.

Hermione stared at him with wide, terrified eyes not knowing what to do or say. They continued to stare at each other until she stumbled forward, her head swimming. He dropped to his knees in the doorway before she could reach him, his chest heaving and head dropping so he could focus on his bloody hands.

“Tom!” She fell forward on the floor, crawling towards his prone form. “What—what have you done?”

Inside she knew.

He’d killed again.

Muggles.

Muggleborns.

Like her.

She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. Forcing him to look up at her. “Tom, tell me what you’ve done!” She was screaming, she knew, but she couldn’t stop. She needed answers. She needed him to say something.

Finally, he glanced up at her, green eyes more haunted than ever. It made her skin crawl.

“I’ve made a horrible mistake, Hermione.” He stopped, swallowed, and carried on, “I created another one.”

“No…”

He nodded. She let go of his shoulders, pushing to her feet. Backing away, she put as much distance between them as possible. She knew what he'd created, of course. She’d help destroy one herself…

_A Horcrux._

She shivered, running her hands through her curls, tugging slightly. Tom remained where he was, kneeling on the floor as if in prayer. Trembling, Hermione took a tentative step forward, and another until she stood in front of him once more. She tried not to be frightened, she truly did, but it was difficult. She knew what she had to do. What she had to reveal.

“I’m a Muggleborn, Tom. My parents are Muggles.”

His head snapped up with such force she heard it crack, green eyes seeking out her chocolate ones. Her gaze never wavered, her fear slowly slipping into anger. This wizard before her had killed someone to further his own life, and it made her want to rip him limb from limb. He seemed to realize this, head dropping forward. She watched as his shoulders began to shake, his own breathing growing erratic.

And then…

Then, teardrops began to mix into the blood on his outstretched hands, the red swirling, dripping, falling to the floor at their feet. As she watched Tom Riddle fall apart, Hermione’s heart shattered into a million pieces, for she’d never expected to see him show remorse for the horrific deeds he committed. The Voldemort of her universe never would have cried over such things. Silently, Hermione placed a hand on his back, rubbing in slow circles for only Merlin knew how long.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

They didn’t speak at all for over a week, working in silence until, finally, Tom discovered the incantation needed to repair the Time Turner. He held out a scrap of parchment for Hermione. She took it slowly, her fingers just barely grazing his. Reading the words he’d written with his quill, she wrapped her hand around the Time Turner hanging on the chain at her neck.

“You’re certain this is the one we need?”

He nodded.

“Do you—do you want to cast it,” she asked, uncertain he’d even reply.

“If you’d like me to.”

At the sound of his voice, something inside her snapped. She choked back tears as she handed the parchment back to him, unsure exactly why she felt like crying. She slid the chain from around her neck and set it on the bed between them. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees to watch. He gave her an odd look as he took his wand in hand, a wand that she realized had killed, and would kill again. Her chest constricted, and she bit her lip as she waited on him to cast the spell.

With a deep breath, Tom waved his wand over the Time Turner his voice a low rumble that made the hair on the back of Hermione’s neck stand on end. The Time Turner glowed a bright gold before returning to its former state.

Their eyes met, both wondering if it worked.

“Do you think—”

“Yes.”

“What now?” She didn’t know why she asked. She knew the answer.

“Let’s get you back to where I found you,” Tom said, already rising from the bed and reaching for his cloak. Hermione noticed it’d been cleaned, the sleeves no longer stained red. She wondered when he’d done that. She wondered a lot of things actually, but instead of asking them aloud, she stood, pulling on her old coat and grabbing the Time Turner.

They left the room together. One last time.

Hermione didn’t bother looking back before he closed the door.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Arriving in the clearing, Hermione tried not to let her panic show. She was about to head back into battle. Back into Voldemort’s clutches. She’d never told Tom any of this. He had no idea she could die the instant she returned to her time. He had no idea how terrified she was to leave this place behind. Shuffling her feet back and forth a bit, she kicked stones and broken branches. If Tom realized she was stalling, he said nothing. After some time, she turned and faced him, surprised to find him watching her curiously.

“I don’t want to go.”

His green eyes widened ever so slightly, one hand running through his dark curls. “Hermione—I...you have to go back. You can’t stay here. You can’t stay with me.”

“Why? Would it really be so horrible to have a Muggleborn to fall in love with you?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, her words cutting through the space between them like a knife.

Tom stumbled backwards, his mouth agape at her revelation. How had she managed to fall in love with this wizard before her? He was shaking his head at her now, eyes squeezed shut. Heart beating erratically, she tried to find something to say, but he beat her to it.

“No, Hermione...what would be horrible, what would be _wrong_ rather, is for someone as pure and innocent as you to love a _monster_ such as me.”

She watched as tears filled his eyes, one escaping to roll down his pale cheek. Forgetting herself for the moment, she ran forward, throwing herself into his arms. He caught her readily, his arms wrapping around her body like they did that first night.

Only this time…

This time his mouth found hers hungrily, his lips massaging hers with enough force to bruise. She kissed him back with fervor, her lips parting to allow him access inside. She moaned into the embrace, her fingers tangling in his soft, curly locks. Neither knew how much time passed, but eventually they had to part, and both felt the ache that came with the separation.

Hermione’s face was wet with her own tears now, hand clutching desperately at the Time Turner. She was shaking her head, but Tom was already backing away from her. “No, Hermione. You have to go back.”

“He’ll kill me.”

“Not if you kill him first.”

“I can’t do that…He— _you—_ ”

“I know,” Tom sighed. “I’ve known all along, Hermione.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She was sobbing now, her heart breaking, shattering even further.

He merely shrugged, a desolate look upon his features. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. We’re from different universes, Hermione. In this one, I can love...I can change. In yours—in yours, I have to die, and you have to be the one to do it.”

Shaking herself, Hermione stood up straight. He was right. She knew he was. With her wand in one hand, she relaxed her hold on the Time Turner. Meeting his green eyes once more, she gave him a sad smile. “Goodbye, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Hermione.”

She flipped the Time Turner multiple times forwards and to the side, her eyes never leaving his. As the swirling vortex picked up around her, she braced herself, already missing this Tom, but there was a far more important task to tackle now. She had to save her future. Her friends' future.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

In an instant Tom was gone. His universe was gone. Darkness engulfed Hermione, and then just as sudden as it began, the wind died down and she found herself standing in the clearing, only now it was dark and filled with sounds of screaming and explosions from the distance. Slowly, Hermione rotated where she stood, the Time Turner dropping from her hand. Brown eyes met red once more, and terror shot through her body.

This was not Tom, but she knew what had to be done.

Voldemort lifted his wand.

So did she.

“ _Avada Kedavra_.”

Green light exploded in the clearing, and then…

Then, there was nothing.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  



End file.
